[Editor’s Note: Culver City’s major poet is facing shoulder surgery in four weeks.]
I said to a poet friend today, “Now that they know the shoulder is going to be operated on, other parts are screaming for attention:
“What about me?
“I hurt, too!”
Somehow, if we can laugh about it, it doesn't hurt quite so much.
After I read my poem to the poetry group yesterday morning, someone recalled that dialogue in the Cary Grant film “The Bachelor and the Bobbysoxer” where he does the routine with Shirley Temple.
Remember?
We were all sitting in our meeting saying it! Amazing what we recall from so many years ago.
You remind me of a man.
What man?
The man with the power.
What power?
The power of voodoo.
Hoodoo?
You do.
Do what?
Remind me of a man.
What man? … etc. etc.
They also remembered the “Moses supposes his toeses are roses…” bit from “Singing in the Rain.” I told them I couldn't resist using the goofy rhyme scheme.it just seemed to fit here..!
Voodoo? Who Do?
By Janet Hoult
Sometimes I think a witch doctor has my surrogate voodoo doll
And enjoys sticking pins where’er he pleases
First my ears and then my back
Next my shoulders and my neck
And of course we can’t forget my kneeses.
Then my fingers and my toes
And let’s not neglect my nose
Or my ankles and my hands
My joints feel like rubber bands
Now become dried up and old
So I cannot even hold
My fork or knife or spoon
Without feeling like a loon
And I have to face the fact
That my urinary tract
Doesn’t work right even though I squeezes
Oh, I’d like to find that witch doctor who has my voodoo doll
To stick some pins in him would be a pleasure
Perhaps I could stop the pain
If not, I’m sure that I would gain
From knowing that I had paid him back full measure.
Ms. Hoult may be contacted at HOULTight@aol.com
